She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. “What else was I to do?” For some seconds she stood watching him and both were thinking very quickly. She remained for some seconds crouching at the fender, poker in hand. But she was not there.
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